Over the Rocks and Far Away
by msallnitechemist
Summary: Post Fifth Doctor era, after "Planet of Fire." Turlough reflects back on the hits and misses in his life after leaving the TARDIS and returning to the life he once knew on Trion. Beta'ed by starzangel.


_Disclaimer_: This is a fictional story chronicling the life of Turlough after "Planet of Fire," an episode of the BBC show "Doctor Who," written by Peter Grimwade and involving the Fifth Doctor. No copyright infringement intended.

**Over the Rocks and Far Away**

The reddish-brown eyebrow of a Trionic commander furrowed as he surveyed the scene before him. One eye was fixated on a Junior Ensign that had been giving him trouble all week. Not only was he always late to his assigned post, he never listened to orders and was slow with whatever small task Turlough gave him. Not to mention lazy.

He thought back to the day when he was given that rank - Junior Ensign! From that day forth, he carried himself with a completely different air about himself - as if the title itself had given him power he had never known before. And it was with that rank and clouded judgment that he had gotten himself mixed up with the revolutionaries, who promised him riches and a better life if he joined them. _What an idiot you were back then...maybe, just maybe if you hadn't been such a big idiot, things would be different. Very different._

The young man, probably only several years younger than Turlough himself, was sitting down on one of the larger rocks at the excavation site and appeared to be napping. Turlough, annoyed with the recalcitrant kid, was furious. "Lyden, pick up your shovel and GET BACK TO WORK!" The kid, shaken from his sleep, shuffled around and did as he was told.

The gruff outside of Commander Vislor Turlough belied the kind of person he had become after getting stuck at a boys' school on Earth, followed by mind control by a being only known to him as "the Black Guardian," coupled with time travel with a Time Lord who taught him about the life and the universe more than his own father had.

Maybe he was being too hard on the boy. If Turlough squinted hard enough, he could almost see himself in that boy's military-issued boots.

This job, he conceded, was getting to him. He sighed, wondering how much longer he'd be stuck on this miserable planet.

He allowed his mind to wander back through the fog of consciousness, to the day he returned to Trion...

Of course, Turlough felt relieved that he was finally allowed to go back to his home planet. All of his previous missteps with the law, as an able-bodied soldier fighting for the revolution on the "wrong" side of the Trionic civil war were now purged from the public record. Any former political prisoner from the war would have been more than satisfied with such a pardon. But returning felt more of an obligation than personal choice.

It probably would have been fine if the people of Trion had left things well enough alone. The first signs that his arrival would be uncomfortable started as soon as he stepped off the spacecraft; for Turlough, it was more than a little off-putting. For saving the entire population of Sarn, he received a hero's welcome. The people who he had saved would also make appearances in his life and repeat over and over again how grateful they were. Turlough had no remaining relatives left in his life save his brother Malkon, who he had essentially run into by sheer coincidence on Sarn. So it was always bittersweet when he would run into families that had been reunited. They were always groveling at his feet in gratitude and when he could see in their eyes the love that they shared, he died a little more inside. Because he knew he'd never have that again.

Those younger than Turlough himself, all of whom had no first-hand recollection of the savagery that went on during the war, greeted him warmly and loudly with a "Junior Ensign Commander Vislor Turlough!" and with the traditional Trionic hand salute befitting a general returning from a battle victorious. He later found out that the photograph from his enlistment and the rank he had been given, well before the bloody end of the unsuccessful revolution, had been plastered on the front pages of all the newspapers; that was how everyone on the planet knew who he was, despite the fact that he had been away for years.

But he wasn't enjoying it; Turlough despised such displays. Could all his time cavorting in the universe change him so much?

It wasn't until he met Aria that he started to feel like his old self again. He reached into his pocket, like he did so many times each day, and pulled out an overly wrinkled photograph of a smiling girl with dark hair past her shoulders.

Frustrated and lonely, Turlough closed his eyes, a futile attempt to blot out the wasteland that was in front of him.

A voice broke Turlough out of his reverie. It was one of his officers, Gortin.

"Commander, the boys are parched. Can we take a short break to get some water from the well? It's getting late." Gortin gave him a concerned look. "Sir, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Turlough scoffed. "Just had a brief nod off, it's nothing." He cleared his throat, quickly slipping the photograph into his back pocket. "Fine, they can have a break - but not for too long. I don't want them getting the wrong idea."

"Yes sir. Oh and commander, I wanted to tell you - that message you have put through to your brother? We haven't received a response from his battalion yet. Shall I keep trying?"

Turlough nodded. "Yes, Gortin. Let me know immediately when you receive word from him." Then Gortin was off.

He had been trying to get a message through to Malkon because he thought maybe his own flesh and blood might help him get out of there. But it was only a faint hope...

The brothers had no need to worry what they would do when they got back to Trion - since both of them had been in the military, they were given special appointments in light of their heroic deed. Turlough had been asked where he wanted to be stationed, but because he was so frustrated, he closed his eyes and nodded when an Trion official mentioned a small, red-brown planet 50 light years away.

Rullop. He'd never heard of it. A little arid but plenty of promise, the official had assured him. The little man searched his filing cabinet for an hour before unearthing a report from a geologist who had been to see the planet before. In big bold letters, the extraordinary claim that the climate and topographic features indicated that precious minerals - namely jethrik - were beneath the surface there. Turlough shrugged, taking the report, and left the room. He didn't have anything to lose. Besides, how bad could it be?

The promise of riches and being able to retire early were most appealing. So Turlough agreed to be away from Trion, and of course Aria, for a short time until the mission was completed. He thought that maybe - just maybe if he returned successful, he'd feel he actually earned the right to be a hero to his people. Because he sure didn't feel like one when he returned.

Little did Turlough know he'd made a big mistake letting the laws of randomness choose where he'd end up. Maybe it was because he had let the figurative wind of the universe carry him as he had traveled with the Doctor and he just assumed that he'd land on his feet this time. Just as the Doctor did - his luck never seemed to run out. Except for that time he'd confided in Turlough that he'd made a mistake that cost an Alzarian boy his life...

But now Turlough was stuck. Sure Rullop was full of promise - if the men he commanded could dig and drill deep enough into the planet's surface and find the jethrik that blasted report had insisted must be present. Otherwise, he could find nothing that pleased him about his current surroundings. Arid was an understatement. The tumbleweeds and loose dirt and sand would kick up around him and his men whenever the wind blew.

When he closed his eyes, he imagined Aria in front of him, singing her heart out with that beautiful voice. On their first date, Aria explained that her father had named her for the lovely songs on Earth he'd read about in history books. It seemed divine providence to Turlough that Aria was given such a gift.

The Doctor had mentioned something about arias while they were travelling together – he said something about how civilised people listened to Italian operas and played cricket.

Turlough always smiled when he thought of the Doctor. He seemed to always be fainting and falling all over himself, saying the oddest things, but always with this winsome smile on his face. _Never a dull moment with that chap._ Each day was a new adventure.

He thought he'd welcome the stability of being home again, so when the opportunity presented itself, Turlough jumped at the chance to go back to Trion and bid the good Doctor goodbye. And once in a while, Turlough would think of the Doctor and wonder where in time and space he was.

One thing was for sure. What he really missed was the thrill of danger, the wonder of spontaneity of travelling with the Doctor...and the unknown that always greeted his senses when the door of the TARDIS opened.

Wouldn't it be funny if the Doctor's police box just materialised in front of him, here, now? Turlough laughed to himself. Nah. One day, he'd back in Trion – ready for the rest of his life. Where Aria was waiting for him. Soon.

His eyes turned to the sky, now streaked by bronze and pink as time slowly creeped towards night. Whistling, Turlough smiled to himself as he walked towards his tent for supper and lights out.

**THE END**


End file.
